The Warrior of the East
by LittlePearlie
Summary: Herenya, young Gondorian girl, Vardaressë, Bearer of Hope, Vórima, the True, Methenniel, The Mad one. So many names for one person, for the Witch of the East. Follow her through her journey accross Middle Earth as the shadow from Mordor is growing.
1. Chapter 1 - Varadessë

**As I'm sure you know, Goblins and Orcs are different. Goblins are smaller and stockier, fashioned more after dwarves, than the Orcs, which were Elves Sauron had tormented and twisted.**

 **So... here is a little story inspired by something I read a long time ago and by** _ **The Lord of the Rings**_ **by JRR Tolkien.**

 **I own nothing except my dear Herenya Vardaressë**

 **English is, by the way, not my mother tongue so please, forgive my mistakes!**

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In a cold winter night, a dark shadow crosses the mountains bordering the land of Ithilien. In her arms, a little bundle is wrapped in soft and warm covers.

She's running through the harsh and cold stones, running to the West, far from that dark place where only shadows and evil live.

The bundle in her arms suddenly wails, the distress cry of a child. Hushing the little one she's carrying, she ducked into a small cave, between rocks. But, int the darkness of the place, the cry has attracted an unwanted attention. It's only two eyes at first but then, pair by pair, these gleaming orbs filled the room until thousands of them were centered on the pour unfortunate souls who had trespassed their territory.

A sharp cry coming from the depths of the cave pushed the woman to run, the baby hidden against her chest. Stones were rolling beneath her feet as she was tumbling down the rocky hills. Dreamlike slowness and panic overwhelmed her as she tripped over that one and only root.

It was the first tree of Ithilen Forest, the first sign of life in these desolated lands. And it was the last thing she saw as she collapsed on the forest floor, an arrow piercing her right lung.

The Goblins that had just killed a woman, approached, ready to feast on the dying body that lay on ground wet with her blood. Cruel laughs sent eerie echoes into the dark of the moonless night. Flesh and skin being ripped, broken bones and gurgling blood filled the air with sickening sounds, until the whistling song of an arrow pierced the night, flying through the branches of ancient trees.

Goblins fell one after another. What was left of them ran as if they were pursued by Morgoth himself when the attacker stepped out of the woods.

The shooter stood by the tree, sighing at the sight of the dead and half eaten corpse at his feet. Turning the woman over in hope of discovering her identity, he knelt down, and frowned as the little bundle came to his view.

Lifting it from the red-stained ground, he cradled it in his arm when he laid eyes on the beautiful yet tearstained face of a baby girl. Lulling her through calm words, he rocked her in his arms, bringing her to sleep. On her chest, was a silver orb, a medal with a simple word on it : Varadessë. Bearer of hope.

 **I hope that you liked this first chapter ! The next one will be coming soon :)**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Shadow from the East

**I still don't own anything !**

 **I hope you will enjoy this new chapter :)**

 **Oh, by the way, the little blue button doesn't bite so ... do not hesitate to send me reviews !**

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The Gondorian brought her to his home, named her Herenya and, with his wife, raised the little girl as his own. With each day passing by, she was becoming more and more beautiful. Her golden locks were dancing along the curve of his back and down to her hips and her icy blue eyes shinned on her face. She was a joyful and loving girl, living for nature, music and sword fighting. Despite her wife's recrimination, Arahad insisted on training Herenya so that she'll be able to defend herself. Lindórie couldn't understand why her husband would turn her little princess into a soldier but acted as though it didn't really matter to see her little girl covered in mud and bruises as she was acting like a little savage. The happy family lived in a house, in the forest of Ithilien. It wasn't much, actually it was a rather simple and rustic house but it was always full with laughters and love. The smell of the delicious meals cooked by Lindórie was always filling the air and the sound of the hammer of Arahad the Carpenter could easily been heard through the songs that Herenya sang all day long. She was a healer, a white witch, helping those she could through spells and potions. Her magic was bringing life and prosperity to the town and, therefore, she was loved by her fellows.

But those happy days had to come to an end. As shadow was growing in the East, rumors began to spread through the town and a poison, more deadly than the sword creeped into houses, reaching men, women and children. Ignorance and fear mixed together gave birth to that poison, suspicion. And from suspicion grew hate. Who was responsible? Who killed their husbands and children? Who made the crops rot in the ground? Who transformed the beautiful forests of Ithilien into dark and creepy wooden skeletons throwing their scrawny fingers to a cloudy dark sky? And instead of turning to the east, looking at the evil shadow spreading from Barad-Dur they chose not to face this destiny of war dawning on them. Someone had to be guilty, someone had to die. The witch! She was surely the one who brought darkness upon them. It all began with fearful glances. Eyes that have been once friendly had suddenly turned into harsh stones following her as she was wandering through the town. Fear transformed into hate and so, came the insults. Ostracized from the village, she retired into the forest, hoping it would calm the villagers. Unfortunately, it would only bring a new flame on fear kindling a stronger hate against the witch. She had disappeared but she would return and they were all convinced that when she'll does, she would kill them all. Their only solution was to kill her first. Arming themselves with swords, bows and torches they all left the village at night marching as a chaotic army through the forest. Through the trees, they saw the glowing lights of the little and peaceful house. Its windows were lit by a dancing fire purring in the chimney and the smell of apple pie and cinnamon was floating through the windows.

" _Kill the witch, kill her before she curses us. Now is the time for the Witch to die. Shall her name be cursed, shall her face be forgotten, kill the witch!_ "

The growling voice of the hunter who had taken the lead of the wild company snapped in the cold winter air as they began to march onto the house.

" _Death to the witch_ "

The door shattered and they rushed into the once peaceful home. Swords swung in the air, blood was spilled, screams were heard. Lindórie fell, clutching her bleeding chest. Arahad caught Herenya who was trying to defend herself and drew her to the back of the house, pushing her into the forest. Taking a little necklace from his pocket, he put it around her neck and looked at her with love and sadness.

" _This was the only thing we found with you when we took you in after finding you in the forest. Now run my dear. Run away and never come back. Run and be safe. I love you._ "

Tears were in her eyes as she was running through the forest, still hearing the screams of the men destroying what was once her shelter, her home.

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 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter ! The next one will be up on monday :)**

 **BTW, as you've seen, I managed to understand how to draw a line between my note and the fanfic, sorry for the previous chapter ^^**


	3. Chapter 3 - Home is behind

**Hello everybody,**

 **I'm so sorry to be late with this chapter !**

 **A big thank you to my beta, Celridel, who's doing a wonderful job at correcting my mistakes !**

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Ten years had passed since that fateful day. Ten years in which Herenya had been living the life of a starving beggar. The story of the Eastern witch had spread upon Middle-Earth and as soon as she was recognized, she was feared and frowned upon. Every day she was struggling to live. Food was scarce in the woods of Gondor as the shadow spread, rotting and devouring everything in its path. Once peaceful animals now were starved, always searching for a meal.

Herenya never stayed in one place long. No one would accept her, and she was a vagabond, moving from one place to another.

And this seemed to be the life she deserved, and she took a bitter delight in it. Her family was dead, and it was her fault.

All around her she felt the darkness that crept, and yet no one else seemed to heed it. But that time was coming. It was Nobody seemed to be felling the changes that were now happening through the whole Middle Earth, nobody, except her.

It was on a hot summer morning that she first saw something. She was close to a town, standing in the woods. The air seemed tense and heated. The birds stopped their song, and the silence made awful echoes. The birds that were twitting and chirping every morning suddenly fell deadly silent. The hot and moist air cooled down, making her bare skin quiver.

She heard people moving in, waiting for the thunderstorm, but that seemed so far away. Her stomach ached with dread, and she jumped to her feet to run as far away as her legs could carry her.

She was stricken down in the main street of a tone, frozen against her will. Dancing in front of her, burning into her eyes, a giant eye of glowing red flames appeared. The black pupil searched her mind, invaded her spirit, saw her soul.

Unable to move, unable to cower, to whimper, she stood there, eyes wide open with terror. She did not see the beasts that rushed by her, gray and covered with mud and dried blood. She did not feel the gore that splattered as they attacked the villagers, and the screams and roars. .

And then it was gone. The town was filled with the dead and dying, but the slaughters were gone. She hit the ground hard, suddenly unable to stand. She felt raped. The Eye had seen so much of her. He had seen everything, torn apart her body to look into her soul. He saw the good and the evil. He saw her birthing place, among the fires of Mordor. Her blood tied her there. She belonged to him.

Glancing up, she saw the people surrounding her, and heard the wails as mothers clutched lifeless children to their breasts, and young men swore vengeance for the creatures who had butchered their lovers. Dimly Herenya felt pity for them, but that soon faded as one man shouted the question that was soon every tongue.

"Why was she spared! She's the Witch of the East! She has brought doom to us!"

They gathered around the shaking figure on the ground. They attacked her without warning, stoned her and then dragged her to the forest, living her to die there.

Herenya lay on the hard ground, trying to gain enough strength to rise. Her body betrayed her, her soul was beaten down. And when at last she rose, she fled into the forest, and vanished into the trees, running in the night.

She journeyed where she would, eventually making her way up to Anorien, living off forest fruits and stream water, though the trees were withering and the water turning bitter. And she fought these fell creatures, falling upon small companies of them, and she learned their name- _Yrch._

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 **I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, the next one will be up on wednesday !**


	4. Chapter 4 - the People of the forest

**Here is the new chapter, hope you'll enjoy it !**

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A huge rock was standing in the middle of the forest, covered in moss and grass, humid from the rain that fell the day before. Trees were hardly protecting it with their branches, and their leaves were scattering in the wind, red, orange and brown, the colors of autumn. The sky was grey and foggy, as twilight began to cover it, but the moon could not shine through clouds.

Mice were scurrying under the leafy litter. A whippoorwill called, a lone, sad song. The wind was rising, a storm upcoming from the North.

Amid the gloom it was hard to find smaller shapes. But looking closely at the bottom of the monolith, a little figure could be seen rising. A human form appeared, tossing back her brown cloak.

Herenya scrambled to her feet, rubbing her eyes, and plucking off the leaves that had stuck to her ragged travel clothes. This was a leather hauberk, worn over brown pants and a green shirt. They were torn, ripped in battle and roughly stitched. They were also stained, with mud or blood.

Readying herself for another night of purging this earth from the vile creatures vomited by the darkness of Mordor, Herenya was struggling to untangle her long snarls of hair into a braid when she heard something. She looked up. It was a song, ringing through the mist, coming from the stars she could not see. It was a beautiful melody, drifting through the trees, as if sung by a million voices, each as pure as crystal water from the mountains.

Her hand on the pommel of her sword, she left the glades, following the voices. When she reached the singers, hiding in the underbrush, she was taken back. These were the embodiment of all beauty and fairness.

Staying in the bushes, she watched them as they prepared for night. Some were setting up tents, others leading horses to the stream. They all seemed to be warriors, male and female, proud and strong, noble even in Ranger garments of brown and green, thy carried their weapons by their side, prepared to attack.

Herenya climbed a tree, settling on a low branch. She watched them in awe at first, their beauty of face and form, their strength, their confidence. She called them the _People of the Forest_ for they seemed at one with flower and tree.

Soon she was surprised by the sense of unity. They seemed to form something, each were together, almost a family, bound together by duty or friendship, she wasn't sure.

Snuggling in the shadow and comfort of the branches, she felt salt water sliding down her cheeks. Since her parents' death, she had never cried but the delicate songs carried by the wind seemed to have open her heart, allowing her grief to overwhelm her.


End file.
